


A Little off the Top

by complexnapoleon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Punk, Gen, Haircuts, Loft, Loft fic, Other, Punk, Punk Lestrade, Punk!lock, Punklock, Rare Pairings, Rare Relationships, Roommates, mohawk, platonic, punk moriarty, punk watson, rare pairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1977057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complexnapoleon/pseuds/complexnapoleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade, Jim Moriarty, and John Watson are a couple of young punks sharing a loft and John has been neglecting the fact that he his in dire need of a haircut. Seeing an opportunity, his roommates can't help but chime in with an idea that may be good for both parties involved, but comes with some one sided risks that John may not be willing to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little off the Top

"John, it’ll look  _fine_! You’ve been saying you need a haircut for two weeks now and you still haven’t done anything about it. Come on, don’t you trust me?”

John bit the inside of his lip as he listened to Greg, seriously contemplating whether or not this was a good idea. He  _did_  need a haircut, that was for certain. His hair had grown out far too much and was long past the point of not being able to do anything with it. Yeah, he supposed he did trust him. But then John’s eyes wandered over to Jim who had a pair of clippers in his hands, just waiting for the go ahead. That mischievous glint in his eye didn’t do much to settle his unease. At least a full minute of silence passed before John finally spoke up, “Alright, fine. But I want Greg to be the one in control of those things.” He said, nodding towards the clippers in Jim’s hands.

The youngest of the three’s face immediately fell to one of utter offense, bringing his hand to his chest.

"John! I am so offended right now—"

"Clearly."

"Do you  _really_  think I would do something to fuck your hair up?”

"Yes," the other two answered in unison.

The answer left Jim glaring, though there wasn’t much spite behind it. They  _were_  right, after all. That sounded exactly like something he would do. But he couldn’t let his defense rest there when he was obviously losing.  _He_  wanted to shave John’s head, goddammit. “Do you really trust Greg’s handiwork?” He shot, pointing the clippers at Greg almost accusingly. “Do you not remember when he took him forty minutes to get that poster even  _close_  to straight? It is  _still_  off, he just gave up because he didn’t give a shit.”

John turned from Jim to Greg, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “He does kind of have a point…”

Ten minutes later and John was sitting in one of the two mismatched kitchen chairs they had in the center of the room. It had been decided that Jim would do the shaving, but Greg was to watch and make sure that he didn’t purposely fuck anything up. And then once the initial shaving was done they would both work together to trim the remainder of the hair. John obviously hadn’t thought the idea of Jim and Greg working together all the way through, but neither of them argued (for once) because they’d finally gotten the okay and they weren’t going to fuck up it up before they even got started.

The sound of the clippers starting up caused John to jump the slightest bit, obviously still a little unsure about this decision. Jim smirked and looked to Greg who shook his head gravely, his way of silently telling the younger man to shut his trap and not to dare laugh. Not when they were this close.

Jim brought the clippers close to John’s head slowly for dramatic effect and began speaking in a low voice once he was about half way there. “This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever— Ah, you fuck!” Greg’s fist collided none to gently with Jim’s arm in a way that pushed the clippers away from John’s head rather than towards it so that there were no mishaps. Taking a moment to rub his arm and glare at his assaulter, he took on a more serious tone. “Fine, red pill it is.”

An hour later (which was  _much_  longer than it should have taken) and both sides of John’s head were shaved and there were a pair of scissors in Jim’s hands, trimming the top of his hair so that the mohawk would actually be even when it was put up. Greg was holding the hair up as Jim trimmed it and John kept closing his eyes as though praying that the two were doing right by him. Jim had insisted that John was not allowed to look in any mirrors until it was finished so that he couldn’t freak out about anything that looked like any sort of mishap because it wasn’t completely finished. There was a process to this and John was already not wanting to go along with it, so having him freak out in the middle of the haircut was the last thing they needed.

Once they were finished Greg grabbed Jim’s hair gel (Greg preferred to use the natural grease to ‘style’ his hair while Jim was a bit more particular about his) and went to work on sticking the hair up. Once that task was finished the both of them moved around to the front of John who was still sitting in the chair and examined their handiwork. Jim’s hand raised to his chin and his head tilted while Greg’s hands went into his pockets and he nodded in approval.

"I’d say we did a damn good job," Greg said, turning to Jim and giving another nod. Jim’s lips pursed and he looked from Greg to John and then back to Greg.

"The best we could have done with a misshapen head like his." A fist collided with Jim’s arm again and he brought his hand to cover the spot, looking at Greg through narrowed eyes. "Fuck off, ya bloody twat."

Greg rolled his eyes and didn’t even respond before turning back to John. “It looks fine, I swear. Good, even. Here, go ahead on to the bathroom and have a look see. If you don’t like it I’ll hold Jim down while you shave his head.”

Jim’s eyes widened slightly and he looked at Greg like he were utterly insane. “My fuckin’ arse! You touch my hair and you will end up in a dumpster with no idea where you are. The both of you.” He threatened even though John had already made his way towards the bathroom.

"Eh, worth it," Greg replied with a shrug and a small grin, the thought of Jim being completely bald far too amusing to hold back.

After what seemed like forever there was finally a shout from the bathroom and both heads turned towards the sound, more than ready to hear what John had to say about his new hair style. “Alright, it’s not bad. I’ll give you guys that.” Jim and Greg turned to each other with matching grins and high fived, clearly satisfied with themselves. "But I think we should hold him down and shave it anyways. He’s a little too pompous about that bloody pompadour of his if you ask me.”

Suddenly the expressions changed and were no longer even  _close_  to similar. Greg’s grin grew extensively as the idea set in and Jim’s face dropped, his eyes widening as he looked at the larger punk before him. “Don’t you even fuckin—”

Greg made a grab for him and Jim took off before he could manage to actually get a hold of him. There was no way Jim was going to let Greg get his hands on him because he had a feeling he would not be getting out of the situation with his hair untouched and he was extremely particular about it even when he didn’t take the time to style it right.

Jim hopped over the back of the well worn couch and Greg remained not far behind. The obstacles Jim was jumping over (including the kitchen counter) were slowing the larger of the two, but not enough to make Jim feel as though he were safe. Not by a long shot. He ran up the metal stairs to the second story of the loft the three shared and gained a little bit of distance there. It seemed as though he were trapped now and the look on Greg’s face showed that he knew as much. But Jim had different plans.

Jim slowed and allowed Greg to get close enough to actually be able to feel the victory before he hopped over the railing and towards the first floor. Now it was time for Greg’s eyes to widen in surprise and simply stare for a moment as he registered what had just happened. Jim landed on the couch with an ‘ _oof!_ ' and made his way towards the window, hopping out of it as though it were no problem at all. There was no fire escape on their floor, only the one below them. By the time Greg made it down the stairs and to the window Jim was out of sight.

 _No one_  touched Jim’s hair.


End file.
